


Come Home With Me

by KuraBlue



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell, SHINee
Genre: Drabble, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Hadestown, Oneshot, at least i finally wrote something, but i know what i was inspired by so ehh, honestly if you squint this could be anybody, i wrote this in one sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraBlue/pseuds/KuraBlue
Summary: You are a hungry young girl.(except it's literally just this one part and it's only loosely based off Hadestown)
Relationships: Kim Jonghyun (SHINee)/Reader, Kim Jonghyun/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Come Home With Me

"Come home with me."

The lukewarm whiskey slides straight down your windpipe. You gag, clearing your throat, and swivel towards the intruder. It's a man, standing awkwardly in front of you with pink in his cheeks yet determination in his eyes. "Who are you?" you ask, wrinkling your nose and staring at him like he's bothering you, which he is. You're tired and cold and you really don't want to deal with anybody right now. Especially men.

"The man who's gonna marry you," he declares- and wow, he is completely serious. 

You look him over. Okay, he's handsome at the very least, with golden brown skin and tousled dark hair... and the most sincere eyes you've ever seen in your life. No one is that sincere. Not in a world as cruel as this.

Fine, you'll play along. "You got something to eat?" you quip, arching a brow. You've done worse for a free meal. Much worse, you muse, looking him over again.

"How about a melody?"

Oh, so that's what you're dealing with. You prop your chin on your hand. "A singer... is that what you are?"

"I also play the lyre," he points out, as if that sweetens the deal any. As if his owning a lyre will make food fall out of the sky. You notice there is indeed a worn-looking lyre on his back, held by an equally worn-looking strap.

You snort, leaning back and snapping your fingers. "Oh, a liar- and a player, too! I've met too many men like you." You met one thirty minutes ago, in fact- a grizzled man who'd leered at you on your way in. You want so badly to be done with men. You don't even know why you're humoring this one so long.

The pink that floods his cheeks at your remark is adorably endearing. "Ah, no, I'm not like that..." He clears his throat, trying to recover his confidence. "I'm not like any men you've met."

Here we go. "And what makes you different?"

You're expecting him to brag about his house, or his money, or his many satisfied past lovers. But he surprises you yet again.

"I'm working on a song."

A... song. You stare blankly at him, but he's still talking. "It isn't finished yet, but when I sing it... spring will come again."

Well, that's a new one. You feel an incredulous smile quirk your lips. "Come again?"

"Spring will come." And lord help him, he believes what he's saying. You can tell by the way his dark eyes are sparkling like stars.

"When?" you press. "I haven't seen a spring or fall since..." You try to think back, back to a time beyond the blazing hot and freezing cold. A time you've ever experienced anything that could be considered a spring. "I can't recall."

"Well, that's what I'm working on," he tells you. Any nervousness has long since fled from his face, so caught up he is in talking about what is obviously his passion project. "A song to fix what's wrong, take what's broken and make it whole. A song so beautiful, it'll bring the world back into tune..." His gaze lands on you, and you feel the air suck out of your lungs. "And then I'll marry you."

You laugh breathlessly, shakily, tearing your eyes away. "Ohh, you're crazy..." But why is your heart pounding now? What is this fluttering in your chest, this terrifying dizziness you've never felt before? "Why should I become your wife?" you demand to know, gripping the table tightly.

A shadow falls over you. You look up and, damn him, you're snared in his eyes. Who'd given him the right to get so close to you? But you're not pulling away.

"Maybe," he says slowly, "because I make you feel alive."

...is that it? Is that the name for this trembly, electrifying feeling? "Alive..." You test the word out on your tongue. Is this a taste of how it feels to live, after spending so long just surviving? "That's worth a lot." Now that it's named, it's less scary. The man grins at you cheekily, boyishly. You're suddenly struck with the feeling that he may be the death of you.

And you may not mind.

You down the last of the whiskey and slam the glass on the table, smiling back at him. Not like you have anything to lose.

"What else you got?"


End file.
